Charlie was familiar with the roads inside Massachusetts, thanks to her summer travel. She stuck to the primary roads and kept her greetings friendly with fellow travelers. After several days on the road, she reached Albany, a transportation hub. She approached the City Station to the ticket master. The so-called ticket master was a burly woman with wiry curls pulled back from her broad, weathered face. Her Patriots uniform was spotless but slightly rumpled. "Hello, hun; where are you heading?" Charlie swallowed; she had been asking herself the same question. Her family had been from Chicago, and her best guess was that Miles would be there. Most people returned to what was home, hoping to find loved ones in familiar places. She looked at the woman in front of her, straightened her shoulders, and said, "I need the necessary tickets to get me to Chicago."
After several steam trains and a week of walking, she found herself in the great city of Chicago. She had heard stories about the Windy City, it's notorious past and its dangerous present. Right away, she noted that it was nothing like Boston or the other east coast cities she had visited. The streets had never been fully cleared of non-functional vehicles, small trash can fires were surrounded by rough and tired-looking people, and the smell indicated no post-blackout waste system had been put in place. With all of that noted, Charlie couldn't help but be impressed by the size of the city around her. It reminded her of how the building in New York seemed to reach into the skies. It was getting dark and colder, and she knew her best bet was to try and find a hotel.
Wandering a few blocks deeper into the city, she came across an old hotel. It had once had a neon sign, which was now covered in grime. Stepping inside, she was greeted with warmth and a smell she couldn't quite place... it was stale beer and sweat mixed with something else. A busty woman with hair sticks in her bun was working behind a large desk. Candles surrounded her, thickening the air. Charlie approached, "do you have an open room?" she asked, she cursed at herself for sounding nervous. The woman looked up "not from around here, are you?" She squinted at Charlie, sizing her up. Charlie smiled and said, "I'm meeting my uncle here; my train from the east arrived a day early, so I just need a place to stay for the night." She hoped that saying someone was expecting her would keep the questions at bay. "Well, welcome to The Deliala; we do have a room open." she flipped through a ledger and said, "I'll need a gold dixie for the night," Charlie frowned, "weren't dixies a coin from the civil war?" The woman laughed, "yes, we took the term back after those uniforms showed up claiming to be the US reborn." Charlie pulled out her wallet, "I don't know the exchange rate. Can you accept Patriot gold?" The woman smiled, "of course, we accept most shiny things." She took the gold Charlie extended and handed her a room key, "you'll want to head down the hall to the left and go up three flights."
She went up the stairs and found the room number matching the key she was gripping. Opening the door, she stepped into a small room with a double bed and questionable bedding. She lit a candle and looked out of the windows below. The city was quickly growing dark, and people still milled about with no urgency to go home. She quickly stripped the bed, finding the mattress old but clean; she put her bedroll on top of it and climbed inside. Just as she was about to close her eyes, she started hearing a load moaning through the wall. Charlie wasn't entirely inexperienced, but the sounds made her scrunch her face in distaste. A man's voice groaned; his words were only half coherent "that's it," "take what I have," and "just like that," assulted her ears. The sound of skin slapping and the headboard slamming into the wall. She closed her eyes and hummed to herself, hoping this man had no stamina.
Thankfully he didn't, and neither did the next man or the next... the rotation seemed to go on all night. Charlie felt for the woman; she must be exhausted. Only catching a few hours of sleep, Charlie awoke in the morning and quickly packed up. She moved down the stairs to where another woman was manning the desk. She handed over her key and stepped into the chilly morning air sweeping through the city streets. Charlie didn't know much about her uncle, but she did remember him telling her all about a grand hotel called the Waldorf Astoria. She moved deeper into the city as the buildings got taller and more ornate. Finally, Charlie reached her destination. She bit her lip nervously; she didn't know if Miles was here, and if he was, what would she say? Did he even want to see her?
This hotel was very different from last night's establishment. It had high ceilings and stone floors. A bar had been built in the hall's center where a beautiful woman was pouring drinks. Charlie pulled out a stool and waited to order a drink; her stomach also growled, reminding her that she had only eaten jerky since her arrival. "What can I get for you, kid?" The beautiful woman in front of her had dark hair pulled into a low ponytail and perfectly arched eyebrows. Charlie smiled; something about this woman made Charlie want to trust her. "Do you have a cider? And maybe something to eat?" The woman nodded, "I'll get you set up; I'm Nora. What is your name? She poured a light amber cider and set it in front of Charlie. Charlie decided to take the plunge. "My name is Charolette Matheson. I'm looking for my Father."